


Chaotic Calm

by WanderingSummerBreeze



Category: Outlander (TV) RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 09:45:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10716966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WanderingSummerBreeze/pseuds/WanderingSummerBreeze
Summary: Just a snippet, barely anything. Not sure why I wrote it. But here ya go...





	Chaotic Calm

I woke with a start, my wrist pulsating with pain. It took a few moments to shake the fog of sleep off in the early morning hour, but when the second grasp to my arm was followed by a cry of anguish, my body sprung to life, the only reason for it, crying next to me in bed.

She spoke no words, but let the tear stains on her cheeks tell the story and her hand to her belly, punctuating the exclamations and questions.

Not yet.

It’s too soon.

With a switch of a light illuminating the room, I pulled my sweats and a shirt on a quickly as possible. I had ceased sleeping naked, months ago. What would I do if someone happened to break in in the middle of the night? I couldn’t be worrying about trousers. So, I wore shorts to bed, to protect all that I held dear.

I sat by the bed, helping my wife raise her body up against the pillows.

Should I call 999?

No.

Too long.

I eased Caitriona off the bed, doing my absolute best to not show the fear and punch in my fucking gut, noticing the red droplets left on the sheet in her wake.

She spoke very little, her eyes searching mine for answers.

I didn’t have them.

Why the FUCK, did I not have them?

I wrapped her in a large blanket, easing her into some slip-ons, and led her down the stairs.

I can’t remember how I got to the hospital. I remember nothing more than holding her hand in mine, squeezing so tight, her hand began to glow red.

I didn’t care.

I wasn’t letting go.

We were a week shy of seven months. A week shy of another week of fear and excitement to set in. A week shy of one more week on our own. Just the two of us. A week shy, and two months too early.

With each nurse that headed my way, my heart leapt. With each emergency page over the PA, my heart cried and screamed, banging its drum like a wild man.

But no one noticed.

No one cared.

I had turned into some cliché movie, pacing up and down the hall, cautiously looking over to the double doors they had wheeled her through, away from me.

It had happened in a split second. My name. I had whirled around, nearly tumbling over the man. He spoke softly, but it was if I had never heard the English language spoken before. I recognized my name, though. Then Caitriona’s. What was he saying?

Then…

…a smile.

He smiled.

A genuine smile, not one of regret or melancholy.

His arm slapped my shoulder, resting there.

“Mr. Heughan. You’re a dad.”

I stumbled back, my shoulders bracing my weight against the wall. I took my breaths in deep and slow, my eyesight returning from its hazy state. I focused on the man in the white coat again.

“My wife? How is my wife?”

“She’s resting. She’ll be fine,” he took me by the shoulder once again, “Come along, mate. I’ll take you to her.”

Her eyes were closed when we entered the room, but they lifted slowly, a weak smile crossing her features.

She looked frail; delicate. I felt like a barbarian in a china shop. I took her hand gingerly, bringing it to my lips as I knelt down to the floor, resting my head in her hand.

The man in the coat spoke, and I met Cait’s eyes with my own.

“As I said, your daughter is doing well-“

“Our daughter.” We spoke the words in unison, our hands clasping tighter together for strength.

He spoke of heart rates and breathing. Of warmth and care, but in his words, we found little worry. Only hope and an abundance of chaotic calm, and an absolute eagerness to take it all on.

 

 

 

 


End file.
